


Below the Mistletoe

by talxns



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talxns/pseuds/talxns
Summary: Alois learns of traditions associated with mistletoe, and intends to partake in them with his butler Claude.
Relationships: Claude Faustus/Alois Trancy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Below the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas. Thank you to my friend Maria for helping me come up with this idea ɷ◡ɷ

Christmas is nearly here, and a blanket of snow covers the grounds of the estate.

It’s Alois’s first Christmas out of poverty, and the grand spectacle of decoration inside the manor is unlike anything he’s seen before. Garland wraps around banisters and brilliant red leaved plants decorate the tables. A large tree has been fitted in the entrance hall, candles adorning the branches and illuminate the glistening ornaments. He is wary of the fire being so close to the tree, and, despite his butler’s reassurances, keeps a wide berth from it whenever possible.

Out of all of the decorations, Alois is perplexed by a miniscule plant hanging near the ceiling.

“Hannah,” Alois calls, arms crossed over his chest and foot tapping against the floor impatiently. He loathes being accompanied by her, though with Claude away Christmas shopping in the city today, there was no one else on hand but her and the three identical servants to tend to his needs.

The maid hurries toward him, eager to be called upon. “Yes, Master?”

“What is that?” Alois spits, chin nudging toward a small bundle of leaves tied together with red ribbon that hangs above the informal dining room’s doorway. The rest of the manor is decorated with garland and tinsel, but it’s all placed in evidently appropriate areas. This particular bunch of greenery, however, seems to be placed conspicuously overhead, and is unlike any of the other decorations.

“It appears to be mistletoe, my lord,” she replies, looking up at it as well.

“What is it for? Is that where Claude put it?” he asks, still confounded by its odd placement.

“The holiday decorations were prepared by Claude, but their display was carried out by Timber, Canterbury, and Thompson,” she replies softly.

“Hmph. Figures why it’s in such an unattractive place,” he jeers, finding any way to show his displeasure at their ineffective service in comparison to Claude’s. “And you still didn’t answer my question. How useless.”

“I apologize, my lord. I believe mistletoe is intended to be hung over doorways as a tradition to keep evil spirits away,” Hannah informs meekly.

“Hah! So it is as useless as you are,” he sneers, enjoying the way her gaze has returned to her feet. “How I wish it actually worked, so you wouldn’t be able to come near me. That’s all, then?” he asks, attention diverted to his recently manicured nails.

“It is also tradition for two people to kiss if caught underneath at the same time,” the maid admits reluctantly, making herself seem as small and unobtrusive as possible.

“What!?” Alois squawks, looking up from his fingertips at his maid. 

Hannah flinches.

The earl bristles, hands curling into fists. The idea of Claude and this tramp meeting under the doorway and sharing a kiss boils his blood. It won’t happen, not while he’s in charge. He nearly orders for it to be removed immediately, thrown into a roaring fireplace and burned to a crisp to eradicate the possibility entirely, until a brilliant idea floats through his head.

If it were _him_ who catches the demon butler underneath, _he_ would be guaranteed a kiss, would he not?

His fists unfurl, and he lets out a breath that he was preparing to use to berate his servant further. Instead, his face becomes serene, shoulders relaxing and molars unclenching. He has a much, much better use for this sprig of leaves than turning it to incense.

“Hannah, I want you to move this mistletoe to my bedroom doorway,” he commands, a small smirk gracing his lips as he devises his plan. While Hannah _does_ enter his room to clean and make up the bed, it’s never during a time when Claude is in the same hall, since he is usually tending to him all day. It’s less likely for them to cross paths there, but very likely for Alois to pass through the threshold with Claude. It should be perfect. “And do it before Claude gets back. Understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Hannah replies, ducking in a respectful bow.

“Good,” Alois says, turning on his heel and striding down the hall, excited to muse about his inevitable encounter with his demon later that evening.

***

Claude returns an hour after sunset with early preparations for Christmas dinner and clothing to make as charitable donations to orphanages nearby as per Alois’s orders. Alois shadows him all evening, making up for lost time together while he was away and eager to lead him toward the mistletoe trap as the night progresses. He complains through dinner of his exhaustion, feigning yawns and fatigue despite his untaxing day.

When it’s nearing bath time, Alois can’t contain his grin. Claude has left him to wait in his bedroom to prepare the hot water for the bath, and Alois uses the time to rehearse the encounter in his mind. When Claude comes to retrieve him, he’ll walk right under the doorway, where Alois will be waiting, ready to receive him and his kisses.

At the sound of the butler’s soft footfalls down the hall, Alois schools his face into a neutral expression, trying unsuccessfully to calm his fluttering heart. He leans against the doorframe, attempting an air of nonchalance as the demon approaches.

“Your bath is ready, Master.”

Just as he’s about to comment about their positioning, he notices the man has stopped just short of the doorway where Alois intended for him to stand. He would have to take at least two steps to meet his servant, too far from the threshold to really be considered under the plant.

No matter, Alois thinks with a sniff. Perhaps after the bath, when they return to the room, the opportunity will arise. After all, that will make for a more appropriate goodnight kiss, would it not? Undeterred, Alois marches forward toward the bathroom, eager to return to his bedroom after his bath and finally receive his kiss.

Claude seems to take his sweet time washing him tonight. That, or Alois is so full of anticipation that it feels as though he’s been in the tub for an hour. He’s helped out of the warm water and wrapped in a towel, his leg bouncing anxiously as he’s dressed in his night gown.

“Are you feeling well, Master?” Claude asks him as he wraps him in his plush robe and ties the belt around his slim waist, retaining the warmth from the bath. He must have picked up on Alois’s nerves.

“Quite well,” Alois replies, a little too quickly if Claude’s disbelieving eyebrow raise is anything to go by.

“Perhaps I can have Hannah bring you warm milk before bed,” he offers, sliding plush slippers onto Alois’s feet.

“No!” Alois objects, then clears his throat. “No, that won’t do,” he says with more restraint, “I’ve had quite enough of her today.” The last thing he needs now is for Hannah to interfere in this delicate ritual he has set up.

“Very well,” Claude intones, opening the door to the hall and leading Alois out of the bathroom. “If you’ll excuse me, I will prepare it myself.”

“No, I—that won’t be necessary. Just put me to bed,” he says, frustration beginning to rise. How hard is getting this demon to stand in the doorway with him going to be? Surely now, as they make their way closer to his bedroom, they will find themselves under the leaves at last.

Only a few steps now, and Alois wets his lips in preparation. His mouth feels so dry, his heartrate picking up once more. He’s sure Claude can hear it, but for once hopes he doesn’t do anything to remedy it. In a few moments, it will all be worth the plotting and anxious waiting.

Claude arrives at the large doors first, opening them widely. Alois quickens his step, nearly at the threshold, but he’s too late, his butler gliding into the room just before him to fit a hot water bottle under the duvet on the bed.

Alois stops in the doorway, watching his demon flit around the room in frustrated disbelief. Was he doing this on purpose?

“Master?” Claude inquires after stoking the fire, turning to see Alois unmoved by the door. Surely he has noticed the mistletoe hanging over his master? Perhaps the damned beast needs new glasses. He doesn’t allow his eyes to be drawn to it, keeping them square on the blond’s still form.

Alois huffs, shuffling his way toward the bed in defeat. Claude continues his nightly routine as if nothing happened, pulling back the thick comforter and helping Alois out of his robe. The boy sinks into his bed, turning his back to the devil and smushing his cheek against his pillow to conceal his pout. Claude pulls the blankets up to his shoulders, tucking him in snugly.

“I shall return to stoke the fire through the night,” he informs lowly, leaning up and taking the candelabra from the nightstand. Alois just grunts softly in understanding.

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” Claude bids, blowing out the flames and quietly making his leave.

When the door clicks shut, Alois turns onto his back with a sigh, glaring at the door. That damned sprig of leaves. That damned doorway. If only he could keep that demon still where he stood. If only he could bring the plant to _him_. If only….

That’s not a bad idea, Alois thinks, sitting up in bed. If he just held the mistletoe above the two of them, he wouldn’t have to position the butler at all! His confidence returns, along with his mischievous smirk. All he must do is take the mistletoe down from where it hangs above the door. That should be simple enough.

He slides his feet out from under the covers, pushing himself out of bed and walking to the door. He opens it as quietly as possible, taking a step into the hall and craning his head up to see the little greenery. The doorway is quite tall, certainly taller than his own reach from the floor, and even more so while he’s barefoot. He’ll need to stand on something to properly reach it.

Entering his room again, he surveys the possible furniture to use. The low, mahogany table in the middle of the sitting area may suffice as a boost. He removes the small vase of flowers from its surface before gripping the apron and tugging. The table is surprisingly quite heavy, Alois only pulling it a budge across the rug, and he curses the opulence of his own furniture. Still, he has labored harder than heaving some stupid table across a room. He persists, little by little, in dragging the table across the room, being extra careful of the noise it makes once it clears the rug.

Once he’s positioned it in the doorway, he takes a moment to catch his breath and look around. The corridors are quiet and dark, making Alois shudder. Before he can think too much about the darkness, or what could be lurking in it, he returns his attention to his task at hand. He steps up onto the table and reaches as far as he can, pushing up on the balls of his feet, but the leaves are too far out of reach. He huffs, stepping down off the table and back into his room.

The sofas and wardrobes are out of the question, which leaves the wing chair near the smoldering fireplace. Alois begins dragging it across the floor as he did with the table, thankful that it didn’t weigh quite as much. It takes all of his strength to lift the chair onto the table quietly, a bead of sweat dripping behind his ear despite the draft down the hall.

He’s sure this time he’ll be able to reach the mistletoe, confident as he scales the table and chair. Carefully, he stands on the plush seat of the chair, reaching as far as he can once more. But, even on his tiptoes, the blasted decoration is still beyond his grasp.

Cursing, the little earl climbs down from his furniture tower and returns to his room. He’s about to give up and begin hauling the furnishings back into the room when he spots his upholstered footstool hidden just under the bed.

“Ah-hah!” he breathes, sliding it out from under the bed and picking it up. This should be able to raise him high enough to grab the mistletoe. He rushes back toward his makeshift ladder, placing the stool on top of the chair’s seat. It’s not the most secure arrangement, but it will have to do.

Alois climbs back atop the table and onto the chair, stepping around the foot rest and using the arms of the chair for balance. Carefully, he places one of his feet atop the stool, applying his weight and keeping himself steady. The feet of the stool press into the upholstery of the chair, rooting it to the seat. Ever so slowly, Alois places his other foot on the stool, straightening his knees to stand up. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before releasing the arm rests from his grasp and looking up toward his target. It’s so close now, he’s sure he’ll be able to grab it. He raises his arm, fingertips brushing against the leaves and berries. Just a little more…

He pushes up onto his toes, leaning, leaning, until he feels a little wobble from beneath him, and then nothing, as the stool tips over and his feet lose purchase from their perch on his furniture tower.

He gasps as he falls, eyes closing and body twisting to prepare for the blunt impact against the toppled furniture and the floor.

But it never comes. Instead, his body is braced in strong arms, one under his knees and the other behind his back. His body is confused for an instant, tensing as it anticipates pain but never receives it. He opens his eyes slowly, his vision focusing on his savior.

“Claude!” Alois wheezes, hands gripping onto the butler’s jacket arms for unnecessary support.

“What are you attempting to do, Master?” Claude questions, and if Alois had to guess his emotion from his handsome, stone cold face, he’d say he was just a tad bit exasperated. But maybe it was just the low light tricking his eye.

“I… The…” Alois blinks, regaining his thoughts. It’s incredibly hard to concentrate when he’s held in Claude’s arms, his face so close to the man’s. Just beyond that gorgeous face, a little piece of green and red catches his eye right above them, and quickly his confusion dissolves into smug triumph.

“Would you look at that,” he breathes, fingers crawling up Claude’s arm to fondle his ribbon tie, “Mistletoe.”

Claude sighs softly, not bothering to follow Alois’s line of sight above them. So he _did_ know! What a slimy demon he was, watching Alois struggle all evening. Surely he saw him drag all his furniture around as well! He should berate him for being so cruel as to simply standby and act doltish when Alois’s intentions were so obvious. Lousy, worthless demons. If only the mistletoe actually warded these… good for nothing…

Alois’s train of thought promptly crashes as Claude cradles his head with upmost care, leaning down and pressing his lips against his young master’s in a soft kiss. For a moment, Alois doesn’t realize it’s actually happening, eyes wide and lips still against the devil’s. He regains control of his consciousness as he feels his butler start pulling away, his own arms wrapping around the man’s neck and fingers burying themselves into his raven hair to keep him close. He closes his eyes, pressing his own lips against Claude’s fervently, sighing into his mouth when he grants him a few more blissful seconds against his lips.

When he pulls back again, Alois allows it, eyes lidded and lips curled in a satisfied smile. His fingers mindlessly comb through the long locks on the nape of the demon’s neck.

“Was that so hard?” he murmurs, twirling a tendril around his finger.

Claude doesn’t reply, carrying the boy back to his bed and setting him down on the mattress. Alois lets himself be tucked in again, a grin still plastered on his face. He watches as Claude retrieves the foot stool— sliding it under his bed, then the wing back chair—replacing it by the fireplace, and finally, lifting the low table and setting it down in the seating area as if it weighed no more than a silver platter.

When he has finished restoring the room to its original state he bows, a hand over his heart, before exiting once more. Alois waits a moment before bursting into giddy laughter, fingertips pressed to his lips as he rolls around in bed.

It seems Christmas has come a little early for Alois this year.


End file.
